


elven inquires

by icoeurus



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-15
Updated: 2015-04-15
Packaged: 2018-03-23 01:05:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3749311
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/icoeurus/pseuds/icoeurus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Corypheus, Lavellan has time to teach Cullen Elven - it’s harder when they're both drunk.</p>
            </blockquote>





	elven inquires

**Author's Note:**

> Shout out to Fenxshiral on Tumblr for some of the Elven.

“ _Dar’eth shiral,_ ” he repeats, his tongue slurring over the consonants. Bottles of ale sit empty around them, one still resting half full on her lap. The muffled cheers of celebration outside his room fall on deaf ears, the pair having snuck up several bottles of alcohol before retreating up the ladder. Maeve watches his mouth while he tries again, the ends permanently up. Their armor lays forgotten beside them, the night air a welcoming cool on their bodies. Cullen tries again, stopping halfway through with a defeated sigh. She giggles, tipping forward before straightening herself out again.

“No, no, it’s like-“ she collapses in a fit of laughter again. “Creators, you’re bad when you’re sober but now you’re like hopeless.  _Dar’eth shiral_.”

“For all you know,  _you_  could be saying it wrong,” he accuses, eyebrows furrowing downwards.

“It’s one of the first phrases they teach you,” she says, “ _dar’eth shiral._  ‘Safe journey.’ One of the easiest. Easier than  _an’daran atish’an_.”

“Another greeting right? How many greetings does one need to know?”

“Ask Josie, I’m sure she has a list,” she snickers. “One for every  _Orlesian_  noble.”

Both groan at that. Halashiral is a lifetime behind them, with the blue stashes, dancing and murder; but even now, Maeve still laughed at the endless letters from the nobility asking for his hand before he tossed them in the fireplace. He scowls at the people who sneered at her then asked her to dance at the end of the night, prodding the Inquisition to grant them favors when  _they_  were the ones in debt.

“Oh! I think I have one for you the next time you meet one,” Maeve grins and Cullen narrows his eyes, waiting for her to go on. “ _Len’alas lath’din._  ‘Dirty child no one loves.’”

“Maker’s breath – you guys don’t actually say that do you?” She covers her mouth, muffling her laughter. “That’s – that’s not a no.”

“Maybe,” she twists her face in concentration. “ _Nuva… Nuva uralas tel – telsyl na i’ga syl nyel laimem_. Uh. I think it’s ‘may nature strangle you with all the air you’ve wasted.’”

“So, out of all the Elven language you’ve recovered,  _this_  was one of the things that was preserved?” Cullen asks.

Maeve takes a sip of ale, twirling the bottle in her hands. “Oh, no, I don’t think she’d allow it. I think the phrase would die out with her. This is, like, the only thing the Well’s good for – making insults that no one can understand.”

“At least something good came out of that thing,” he murmurs.

“You were worried,” she teases and Cullen grunts in response, his eyes averted down. Maeve smiles, placing the bottle down before putting her hand on his own. “I think I have one for you.”

He groans. “Not another insult.”

“No, nothing like that,” she assures. “ _Ma vhenan._ ”

“ _Ma vhenan_ ,” he repeats. “What does it mean?”

“A term of endearment,” she smiles, “ _my heart_.”

He makes a small ‘oh’, placing her hand under her chin. “ _Ma vhenan_.”

The taste of ale is still strong in his mouth, but the words are stronger.


End file.
